


Old Friends

by aterribleinfluence



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Abby and Marcus talk a lot in bed, F/M, Porn Without Plot, in which your humble author is always a slut for Ark throwbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 00:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11725317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aterribleinfluence/pseuds/aterribleinfluence
Summary: “I never thought I’d be doing this with you.”Marcus raises his eyebrows. “Never?” he says.Marcus and Abby reminisce about old times, and make the most of the time they have left. Is it fluff? Is it smut? Is it both? Yeah, it’s both. It’s also 100% canon compliant, and my god you have no idea how happy it makes me that I can say that about such gratuitous porn without plot.





	Old Friends

It’s late by the time Marcus gets back to the room he’s been given in the Polis tower, and his day has been such that it’s a considerable relief just to close the door behind him and shut out the rest of the world, if only for a few hours.

_Most_ of the rest of the world, anyway. Abby is already in bed when he gets in, but not asleep – she’s propped up on some pillows with the fur blankets drawn tightly around herself to keep out the cold, reading a book. Paper books are as much a rarity here on the ground as they were up on the Ark, but it’s the smile on her face when she looks up and sees him that captures his attention, something that feels rarer still. He might not ever get used to Abby Griffin smiling at him like that.

“Hey,” she says, putting the book aside. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”

“I’m the only other one who has a key to this room,” Marcus points out, something she’s well aware of, or she certainly wouldn’t be so relaxed. “And it is _my_ room, technically. You’re a guest. In my bed, I might add.”

“It’s nicer than mine,” says Abby, running her hands through the thick furs without a hint of shame.

“I don’t know how you know,” says Marcus. “You haven’t ever actually slept in yours since we’ve been here.”

Abby raises her eyebrows. “Do you want me to _start?”_

He can’t help but smile. “No. But you should be getting some rest, Abby. You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

“I wanted to,” says Abby, and watches as Marcus starts to unceremoniously strip off his clothing, throwing it over the back of a chair. “Clearly it was worth my while,” she says, running her gaze over his naked torso with unabashed enjoyment, and Marcus chuckles. The tension is already draining from his body just from seeing Abby again, being with her, hearing her voice.

It’s quite a romantic thought, something that no longer surprises him. Abby tends to have that effect on him these days. Slightly less romantic, but no less true, is the fact that she’s _definitely_ naked under the thick furs of the bed they now share, and he really doesn’t want to waste a moment in joining her.

“Sorry for keeping you up so late anyway,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull of his shoes. “It’s been a long day.”

“I can imagine.” Abby sits up a little in bed – causing the furs to slide down her shoulders in a very distracting way – and reaches over to stroke his arm gently. “How was the first official meeting of the Ambassadors?”

“They hate us,” says Marcus bluntly.

“Well, we expected that,” says Abby.

“It’s nothing we can’t overcome with time,” says Marcus, leaving out the bleak truth that time might be the one thing they were all fast running out of. “Some of them hate each other almost as much as they hate us anyway. Trikru and Azgeda are the worst, but almost all the clans have their old rivalries.”

He stands up just long enough to rid himself of the rest of his clothing, and then slides into bed next to her.

“It’s amazing how much antipathy they managed to build up in less than a century,” says Abby drily, wriggling sideways to make room for him. He kisses her softly, for the sheer novelty of being able to do so, and then settles down under the heaps of furs as they make themselves comfortable in each other’s arms.

“I think some of it is personal too,” Marcus continues, stroking Abby’s hair idly as she settles her head against his shoulder. “The Ambassadors are all pretty strong personalities. I suppose it goes with the job. I got the impression some of them were just picking up new versions of old arguments they’ve been having for years.”

“It’s like being back in the Council chambers on the Ark,” says Abby.

The comparison is strangely arresting.

“I suppose it is,” he says. “Wherever you go, the same sorts of people seem to rise to the top.”

“You mean people too wrapped up in their own petty rivalries and agendas to get anything done?” says Abby. “That doesn’t speak well of either of _us_ , Chancellor Kane.”

“Oh I don’t know that we never got _anything_ done,” says Marcus. “We occasionally stopped arguing long enough to agree on something, if I recall.” He pauses, lost in reminiscence. “Remember how Councillor Fuji had that little tic in his jaw when he was annoyed? The Ambassador from Podakru has the same thing.”

Abby raises her head briefly to grin at him. “I’d forgotten about that. It used to start going whenever Diana started talking about ‘decent, hard-working people’.”

“I don’t think he ever believed she was including _him_ in that group,” says Marcus.

“I don’t think she was.”

“Thank god for Muir,” Marcus says. “If it weren’t for her I think we all would have come to blows more than once.”

“You know,” says Abby. “I always thought there was something going on between them.”

“Fuji and Muir? Really?”

“She used to look at him the same way Councillor Kaplan looked at a ten thousand word report on waste recycling systems.”

Marcus laughs. “At least the grounders don’t have _that_ to deal with,” he says. “I can’t say I miss it.”

Abby makes a little noise of agreement. “It all seems so long ago,” she says, half wistful.

“Less than a year,” says Marcus. “But a lot’s changed in that time.”

Abby smiles. “Yes it has.” She leans up and angles her head to press her lips to his, slow and tender. Marcus slides his hand through her hair and cups the back of her head to bring her closer, and she obligingly moves to drape herself across him, the soft curves of her body moulding to his.

They don’t speak again for a while. Abby kisses him lavishly, every inch of bare skin she can reach. She presses her lips to his collarbone, his chest, she runs her hands lightly down his body, over the muscles of his stomach, and lower. She nuzzles kisses into his neck as she touches him, and it’s so _good_ – not just the sheer, sensual pleasure of it, but the knowledge that she _wants_ to touch him like this, to be with him like this, that she wants _him_...it’s incredibly, almost unbearably erotic and strangely humbling all at once. In all his wildest fantasies Marcus could not have imagined that Abby Griffin would want him as much as he wanted her.

When he can’t bear it any longer – and she seems to find pleasure even in that, in how _easy_ it is for her to bring him to hard, aching readiness – he rolls her over on the bed, pinning her beneath him, and kisses her until she’s panting, breathless, half-laughing with the giddy joy of it.

She returns his kiss eagerly, running her hands slowly up and down his back, mapping his skin as Marcus finally sinks into her with a sigh almost of relief. Being with Abby, being inside her and wrapped around her all at once – it feels so _right_ , in a way that’s impossible to describe, a way beyond simple physical pleasure. It feels like coming home.

They both still for a moment, getting used to each other. Marcus never gets tired of this; just looking into Abby’s soft, warm eyes, seeing the affection and the trust there that has been so hard won for them. He strokes her hair away from her brow, running his thumb tenderly along her cheekbone, caressing her face. It’s a soft, tender moment of absolute peace, broken when suddenly Abby lets out a little unexpected breath of laughter.

“What’s funny?” he says, a smile touching his own lips automatically in response to hers.

“Nothing, I just...” Abby beams up at him, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Remembering all those Council meetings with you glaring at me across the table...I never thought I’d be doing _this_ with you.”

Marcus raises his eyebrows. “ _Never?”_ he says. “You _never_ thought?”

“Oh you know what I mean,” says Abby. She lets out a contented little sound of pleasure as Marcus leans down and kisses her neck, nuzzling the sensitive spot behind her ear.

“Because _I_ thought about it,” he murmurs, in between pressing soft kisses against her skin. “Maybe not back then so much. Not often anyway. But later...I thought about it a _lot_.”

He moves his hips a little; a gentle, carefully controlled rolling motion that pushes him deeper inside her. Abby’s amused little chuckle turns into a moan as she wraps her legs around his back, drawing him in.

“I swear to god, Abby, sometimes I couldn’t think of anything else,” he says.

“Tell me,” she says softly, and he feels it again – that little swell of joy deep inside that’s half pleasure and half sheer surprise that she wants this, that she would ask him for this.

“It used to drive me crazy, wanting you,” he says, breathing it onto her skin like a secret, one she already knows. “Knowing that I shouldn’t. Trying to stop myself from thinking about what it would be like...”

They’re moving together now, an unhurried, rocking rhythm that sends delicious ripples of pleasure through his body. Marcus loves it like this; when they make love _slowly_ , every sensation drawn out in dreamy, overwhelming bliss.

“I used to think about kissing you,” he says. “All the time. There were moments when I wanted to so badly I don’t know how I could stand it.”

“Mmm, just kissing?” says Abby, raising her eyebrows.

He almost laughs at that. “No, not _just_ kissing,” he says. “There were also moments when I wanted to shove you up against the nearest wall and _have_ you right there and then.”

“There were moments when I wished you would,” says Abby.

“I wouldn’t have dared,” he says ruefully. “I didn’t believe you would _ever_ want...”

He trails off, even now unable to put into the words the wonderful implausibility of their relationship. Abby understands. That’s the thing – Abby always understands him perfectly.

“I did,” she says. “I do.” She smiles. “I used to dream about this, sometimes,” she murmurs. “About you.”

“I dreamt of you too,” says Marcus. “I dreamt of how good you’d feel, soft and warm and naked in my arms.”

He slides his hand up between their bodies to cup one of her lovely little breasts, stroking and teasing at her nipple until it stiffens into a taut peak. Abby squirms a little as she arcs into his touch, and the movement-

Marcus groans, starts to move his hips more emphatically. He’s panting now, they both are, the rhythm of their movements shifting to something less controlled, more instinctive. Abby’s legs tighten around him.

“I dreamt about how it would feel to be inside you,” he says, a little hoarsely, and now the moment has the feel of a true confession, every shameful longing of the past exposed before her. He needs her to understand what this means to him, what _she_ means.

Abby kisses him, a clumsy, brief press of her lips against his. “Is it – _ah_ – is it as good as you imagined?”

“Better,” he breathes. “So much better. I wanted you for so long and it feels so _right_ to be with you, it feels so good...god Abby, you feel so _good_.”

“You feel _incredible_ ,” she sighs. “Oh Marcus...”

The sound of his name on her lips like that – dazed and breathless with pleasure – _does_ things to him. He leans in and kisses her more fervently, and the rhythm they share becomes faster, more urgent. Abby moans into his kiss, clutching at his back as he drives deeper into her.

“ _Yes_ ,” she gasps, as her head drops back onto the pillow, eyes closing in bliss. “Yes, just like that...that’s so... _ah_...”

Marcus slides his hand down to where they’re joined, the gentle, practised movement of his fingers accompanied by Abby’s breathy, incoherent little sounds of encouragement as she writhes beneath him at his touch.

“ _Abby...”_ He can hardly speak, can hardly think, the sensation is so overwhelming. “God, I need you so badly...”

She _whimpers_ ; a broken, desperate, unimaginably erotic sound. “I’m here,” she whispers. “I’m right here...don’t stop...”

They’re moving together without restraint now, every hard, rolling thrust tearing a moan from the back of his throat. Marcus can feel his jaw clenching, every muscle in his body taut and trembling with the strain of holding back. He tries to ignore the swelling, growing _need_ that becomes more insistent with every second, and focuses instead on Abby, moving his fingers faster and faster between her legs, rubbing her slick, sensitive flesh with increasing urgency.

Abby lets out a helpless little sob, her fingernails digging sharply into his back.

“ _Yes,”_ she gasps. “ _Oh yes, yes yes...”_

He can’t take it much longer, her fluttering, rising cries, the tight, pulsing embrace of her body. He’s going to explode, he can feel the heat surging through his veins, pressure building at the base of his spine into a tight, inexorable peak.

“Abby,” he groans. “ _God,_ are you-”

She breaks at the sound of his voice –  her back arcs off the bed and she lets out a wordless cry, more breath than sound, as the waves of her orgasm shudder through her body and _thank god_ because with one more urgent movement his own control breaks and he releases deep inside her with a frantic moan of relief, hips pressing hard into hers with each glorious pulse.

As the mindless, shattering ecstasy subsides he just about manages not to collapse on top of her, but it’s a close thing. He feels so spent he can barely hold himself up. They’re both trembling, damp with sweat and panting with exertion. Abby lets out a slightly dazed little giggle.

“ _Oh_ ,” she sighs, letting her head fall back against the pillow, her eyes still closed in languid bliss. “Oh my god, Marcus.”

 “Good?” he murmurs, which is about all he can manage right now.

“ _Yes_ ,” breathes Abby. Her skin is dewy and flushed, and she looks beguilingly rumpled, her lips swollen and her hair a wild tangle spilled across the pillow. Marcus is struck again by the sheer, staggering implausibility of the moment – how just a few months ago he would never have believed that he would under any circumstances be so lucky as to be allowed to see Abby Griffin like this.

He brushes a tender kiss against her forehead, and then carefully disentangles himself from her, rolling over and slumping onto the bed to lie on his back next to her. Abby immediately rolls onto her side and curls around him, draping her arm across his chest almost possessively, and nestling her head against his shoulder.

“We should...” Marcus murmurs, but Abby shakes her head a little, eyes still closed, tightening her hold on him.

“In a minute,” she says. “Let’s just...be here for a minute.”

He presses another kiss onto her tousled hair. “Okay.”

He can’t help but let his own eyes drift closed as the usual post-sex lethargy creeps over him, making every part of his body feel heavy and soft as his pounding heartbeat slowly returns to normal. Abby strokes his skin idly. He can hear her breathing, very softly. For the moment, in spite of everything, the world seems utterly at peace.

That is another effect Abby seems to have on him, he realises vaguely. It is a wholly new feeling, and one he thinks he might never get used to: this sensation of pure, uncomplicated, perfect contentment.

“Marcus,” says Abby quietly.

“Mmm?”

“All those years back on the Ark I...maybe I didn’t think I _would_ be back then, but I’m glad you’re still here with me now. I’m glad it was you.”

“You’re just saying that because Councillor Muir wouldn’t have let you sleep in her bed,” says Marcus drowsily.

“Kaplan might have though.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Abby giggles again, a very un-Councillor Griffin kind of sound. “I mean it though,” she murmurs. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Marcus can’t help himself. “Well not _this_ , no, it’s not really a solo activity.”

This time Abby makes a noise that’s halfway between laughter and irritation. “Will you be serious for one second?”

“Sorry.”

Marcus kisses the top of her head again by way of apology, and they nestle closer together, limbs entwining almost without thought. Abby rests her hand on his chest over the steady beat of his heart, and he wonders, absurdly, if it’s possible to die from love.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” she whispers again.

“Me too.”


End file.
